The Snake Pit
by historylover
Summary: He hates cases involving mental asylums.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Against my better judgment, I'm writing another multichapter. This story was finished before I posted it, due to the fact that I needed to connect things. So, you'll be getting a new chapter every couple days. If anyone cares. Also, a couple words of warning:

1. This is VERY AU. This isn't speculation. It's more of a crack fic. A very unfunny crack fic. At least, I'm hoping it's not funny. If it is, I defeated my purpose. And OOC.

2. Heavily, heavily, heavily influenced by a couple of movies. One very recent, and I'm not saying which one or else you'll know exactly what I'm writing. The other, which I got the title from, an old movie (1948, to be exact). Let's just say I have MANY spoilers for the very recent movie.

3. I know I've written stories like this. I personally think these kind of stories are my best.

4. Disclaimer: See everything above. Also, I don't own Supernatural. Or any of the influences for this story. And, once again, I want to invoke the MST3K motto: Repeat to yourself "This is just a show; I should really just relax."

**The Snake Pit**

Dean hung up his phone and tapped the pad. He already had a feeling that something was rotten in this case. He didn't want to take this case. But, people needed to be protected, and if he didn't protect them, who would?

"Was that Bobby?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, trying to get his stomach unknotted. Although he had reasons to dislike cases involving mental institutions, his stomach tangling itself in knots was ridiculous. "Bobby says this guy was fulfilling a dare at this old, uninhabited former mental institution that's supposed to be haunted…"

"Is it?" Sam interrupted him.

"Bobby says a few years ago, a hunter checked it out. It isn't. That doesn't mean these urban legends die out. Particularly, since this guy's frat brothers went to the police, saying that our guy never came back."

"So, what are you thinking? That the hunter was wrong?"

"Ghosts don't usually make people disappear. And I'm not sure why Bobby called us about it. But, for some reason, there hasn't been much on the Lucifer front." Dean tossed his pencil down. "You want to take it?"

"Sure. Nothing else is going on." _Just killing time until Detroit,_ the thought came unbidden into Dean's head. He shoved that thought aside and continued, "We'll leave tomorrow."

* * *

It was pouring in Springfield when they arrived. Dean noticed a dilapidated building complex, high on a hill, out of the city limits. He could see one long building through the driving rain. A couple of smaller buildings stood next to it. A dreary, rusty, iron gate hung off its hinges. He could just make out an overgrown lawn through the rain.

"Sam, do you think that building's the old asylum?"

Sam looked up from his map and out the window. "Probably. You want to check it out?"

"If it ever stops raining."

"Don't count on it any time soon. Forecast says rain the next seven days."

"OK, we'll rent a rowboat or something. I want to check it out. But, first, let's talk to those frat boys."

Sam nodded. "The house is on Oak Street. Turn left at the light."

* * *

Dean turned as Evan McCormack came down the stairs. "Hi, agents," he said nervously. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"We want to ask you about your brother who disappeared," Dean said.

Evan glanced over at the guy who got him as he left the room. "Look, agents, I know he's done some wrong things. But, he is my brother. When he gets out of the hospital, our parents would like to take him home, see if he can get help closer to them. I know Mom and Dad are petitioning the courts."

Dean held up his hand. "Wait. John Beaumont is your brother, not your fraternity brother?"

Evan looked even more panicky. "Please don't tell anyone here. I took Mom's maiden name, trying to distance myself from John. But, when I can get away, I visited him in the hospital. He escaped. I did call the authorities after he escaped. He says he forgives me. But, he doesn't want to go back to that asylum. I don't blame him. Someone cut him up pretty good."

Dean looked up at Sam. He noted to his frustration that Sam didn't look as confused as he felt. He turned back to Evan, "John is your actual brother?"

"Please don't tell anyone. Especially since he's making me nervous that the guys who attacked him will come after him. It might be his delusions talking, but he's very persuasive. Have you… um… talked to him yet? He's in our hospital. A guard is with him at all times."

"Your brother is in the local hospital?" Sam asked. "He's not gone?"

"No. He was found two days ago, screaming about people with black eyes torturing him. Listen, can I go? I have class in a half hour."

Dean looked up at the mention of black eyes. "Yeah," he told Evan distractedly.

As they left the frat house, Sam asked, "Demons are making people disappear and, what? Torturing them?"

"Makes sense. Bringing about Hell on earth. Why would they start with someone in a mental institution, though?"

"Because no one will believe them? Maybe wraiths and demons are working together?"

Dean sighed. "Let's hope not. I can deal with demons. I hope that we'll stay away from that institution." A thought struck him as he walked around the Impala. "I thought that ruined building was the institution that this guy was at. Like he was on a prank or something."

"Isn't that the information that Bobby had? Do you think we ought to check out that place, just in case?"

Dean got inside the car. He looked outside as it started raining harder. _I already hate this case._

* * *

The armed guard raised a skeptical eyebrow at the sight of Sam and Dean's FBI badges. He sighed as he took another look, but suddenly gave it back right after Dean's peripheral vision caught a slight movement of Sam's head. Dean looked over at him, confused, but the movement had stopped, leaving Sam just looking back at him.

"I'll give you five minutes," the guard said brusquely as he stepped into the room in front of Dean.

"Can we talk to Mr. Beaumont in private?" Dean asked.

"No," the guard who Dean had dubbed "Officer Friendly" in his head said. Dean noted that he said it more to Sam than he did to him.

Dean stepped forward to the hospital bed. John was strapped down to the bed, sleeping. The man had painful looking bruises on him and cuts all over him. He looked like someone had beaten him half to death.

Dean turned to Officer Friendly. "Why exactly is he strapped down like this?"

"Well, _Agent Shaw,_" Officer Friendly began with an edge Dean didn't like in his voice, "If you had read his file, you would have seen that he tried to stab his father while in a delusional state. Plus, he's an escaped mental patient. Of course we're keeping him strapped down." The guard hit the bed hard, causing it to move enough that the patient stirred and opened his eyes. "Hey! Wake up! You've got visitors."

John opened his eyes and stared up at Dean for a couple seconds before he started whispered panicky, "Get away from me."

"Mr. Beaumont…"

"You did this!" the man's voice started raising in pitch. "Black eyes… you did this to me!" He lurched forward, as if wanting to start swinging at Dean, and Dean took an instinctively step backwards, suddenly glad that Beaumont was strapped down. The man glared up at Dean with hatred that Dean had never seen outside of Hell. _"GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!"_

Officer Friendly grabbed Dean's arm and roughly shoved him out the door. He shoved the guard back into the room when Sam stepped in between them.

"Dean, since he's confused right now, maybe it would be better if you didn't interview him. I'll stick around and see if I can talk to him after the doctors can get him calmed down. But, he's agitated seeing you right now."

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder back in the room. The man was still alternating between yelling about needing Dean to get away from him and yelling about black eyes. His agonized screams sent chills down Dean's spine. The screams rattled Dean more than he wanted to admit to even himself. "All right. See if you can talk to him after he's calm. I'll do some digging about the mental institution."

Sam nodded and walked back inside the room. Through the closed door, Dean could still hear the man's screams, begging for him to stay away from the injured man.

Officer Friendly stepped out of the room as two doctors came in. "I've been asked to escort you out," he growled.

"I know the way out."

The officer fell into step with Dean. "You guys are all alike. Come in, thinking that you'll be able to save us. Instead, you prove to be men of violence. You're all the same."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You think I'm a violent man?" He asked, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. _Officer Friendly has no idea what he's dealing with. Same old ignorant, arrogant cop we see all the time. _

The officer chuckled humorlessly. "I didn't say you were a violent man. I said you're a man of violence. You live in violent times. And I'm sure that if I've seen everything you've seen, I would have cracked up years ago. But, that doesn't give you any right to do what you did."

Dean glared at him as he walked out of the door. "I'll see you soon," he snarled at the man.

"I'll be waiting."

As Dean turned to him when the doors closed, the officer's eyes turned black.

Dean rushed back inside. The man reared back his head and dropped to his knees as the demon came smoking out of him.

The officer stared up at Dean and then smirked. "See you around, _Agent _Shaw."

TBC

A/N: As I said, this was finished before I posted anything. My last chapter will be the longest. I'm not sure how many chapters it'll be. I do know it's 29 pages. And, it's not what you think.

As always, not very proud of this. But, I did work hard on it. And I really hope you enjoy it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I continue. And I'm thinking it'll be four chapters, with chapter 4 being the longest.

**The Snake Pit**

Dean drove past the motel. The rain washed against the Impala in sheets, making it difficult for the windshield wipers to keep up with it.

He knew that going back to the motel and doing research on the institution would be the smart thing to do. Maybe call Bobby to see if he had any information about the institution. Maybe call Cas to get him to help out with the demons.

Going out to the institution itself was definitely not the smartest thing he could do.

Yet, he was drawn to the ruined buildings.

He pulled up beside the rusty gate that hung off its hinges. He stared at the buildings he could barely see through the driving rain. He could just make out a portion of the roof being collapsed.

_There is no way that this is the mental institution. It's just a bunch of ruined buildings._

Another shiver ran down his spine. He needed to get out of here now.

Dean backed up the Impala and drove to the motel.

* * *

"_Dean, there are no demon signs around the area," _Bobby said. _"I don't doubt that you saw a demon, but I sure couldn't tell you how many there are around there."_

Dean sighed. "I have an idea where the demons could be hanging out. At an old mental institution. St. Dymphna's. Maybe Sam and I can check it out. I'll call Cas next."

_You OK, baby? _Dean could hear the woman's voice again. He thought she was in the neighboring room. She had been saying that every couple minutes since he got back. It was starting to drive him crazy.

"_St. Dymphna's?" _Bobby asked. _"How are you going to get in and out? Remember last time you got the hairbrained idea to get into a mental institution?"_

Dean chuckled without humor. "The only thing that's going on that I can see is an overgrown swamp of grounds that has almost completely overtaken a group of graffiti-covered buildings."

_Have you been drinking again? _The woman next door asked. She was alternating with that question as well.

"_What are you talking about?" _Bobby said. _"It's a lockdown facility. The majority of the patients there have killed someone or have been deemed to be incompetent somehow."_

"It was. There has to be another one. The one John Beaumont came from. This one I'm talking about has got to have been abandoned for a while."

"_It's never been decommissioned. It can't be abandoned. There are supposed to be 268 inmates."_

"269, according to what I can find on it. Any chance it was relocated?"

"_It seems to have been in the same place for 50 years." _He mumbled something Dean couldn't quite catch. _"Keep me posted."_

As he hung up his phone, Sam came in the room. "So, did I torture the guy or not?"

Sam sighed and lowered himself on his bed. "Well, that's his story, and he's sticking to it."

Dean stood up and paced. "Terrific. Is he possessed? I mean, if he is possessed, maybe the demon remembers me from Hell?"

"He's not possessed. In fact, I'm starting to think you were right before—this isn't a case."

_You OK, baby? _The woman in the other room said.

Dean glared at the wall. "Why is it we always seem to agree on stuff at different times? Besides, there are demons involved here. Officer Friendly was possessed."

"Officer… Are you talking about Officer Harrison? The guard who was with Beaumont? He didn't act possessed to me."

"Probably because the demon came smoking out of him when he 'escorted' me out. And, what was the deal with his sarcasm about our badges?"

Sam looked confused. "I didn't notice anything."

_Have you been drinking again? _The woman sounded like she was crying.

"She's driving me crazy," Dean muttered. He picked up his phone and scrolled down the list to Cas' phone number.

"Who is?"

"That woman…" Dean began, then cut himself off as the other phone clicked on.

"_Dean." _The angel answered.

"Hey, Cas. We have a case that seems to be dealing with demons. We could use your help."

"_Where are you?"_

"Springfield. Century Motel. Room 324…" he heard his own voice echoing tinnily back to him and turned to see Cas standing in front of him. "Cas, remember talking about personal space?"

Cas shuffled back a half step.

Sam stood up. 'Cas, Dean may have jumped the gun here…"

"Why would you jump a gun?"

"We're not entirely sure there's even a case here anymore."

Cas looked over at Dean. "What evidence do you have of demons?"

* * *

Dean pulled up to the ruined buildings. The rain had turned into a mist, but the wind blew the lopsided gate around.

"Why do you think the demons are in here?" Cas asked.

"Well, look at it!" Dean said. "I think every single horror movie ever filmed has used this place for a setting. And, since our monster of choice this time is demons, I'd stake my life on this being a hideout."

"I haven't seen any horror movies."

Dean opened the door. "When this is over, we're going to have to rectify that."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sam making a move, like he was waving someone off. However, when Dean turned, Sam's hands were down at his side.

"What? We're following you." Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, confused, but headed to the main building.

It was dark inside the main building, as Dean suspected it would be. It was chilly in there, wet from where leaks had developed. He shone a flashlight around the place. Every inch of the crumbling brick, broken tiles, rotten wood, broken glass, and rusty iron bars were covered in graffiti.

_Yep. The place where every horror movie has ever been filmed, _Dean thought.

He walked down a murky hallway, reading the graffiti. Over gang symbols and lovers initials, Dean could read "You OK, baby?" at seemingly random intervals. He stopped and looked at one of them, trying to figure out why the randomness felt so orderly. He wondered if the handwriting was the same, but he wasn't the best at trying to place handwriting.

He turned a corner and smelled sulfur strongly. Although the EMF detector in his pocket started buzzing loudly. He pulled it out as lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating a brand new, clean hospital hallway with no graffiti.

"_You OK, baby?" _a woman's voice came from behind Dean. He quickly turned and his flashlight caught a shadow moving away from him down the wet hallway.

Dean ran after the shadow, but he found himself in a cell. It looked more like an old hospital room than cell, but the rusty metal wire reminded him that this was a hospital for the _convicts _who had been declared mentally incompetent.

The woman's disembodied voice filled the room. _"Enjoy yourself," _she sang. _"It's later than you think."_

Dean slowly turned in the room. It dawned on him in a slow panic that he couldn't find the door he came through. Meanwhile, the mocking female voice continued singing in a dirge, _"Enjoy yourself. While you're still in the pink. The years go by, quicker than a wink."_

"_Play with me," _a child's voice came floating in to the room over the singing. _"Please, play with me. You can be the knight in shining armor, and I'll be the princess you rescue."_

"Dean?" Sam's voice came from down the hall. It grew closer and louder. "Where are you?"

Dean's flashlight beam landed on a woman. She grinned as she ran a hand through her dark hair. Her grin looked like she was going to eat him alive. She continued singing, _"Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself. It's later than you think."_

"_You didn't save me," _the little girl's voice accused him.

"_You OK, baby?" _the woman asked without moving her lips. Her grin widened, and Dean wondered how that was possible. And he didn't remember ever seeing demons in their meat suits able to stretch their mouths that far.

Or ghosts for that matter.

He looked around for his gun. He knew he had it with him when he came into the building, but he now had no idea where it went to.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was just down the hall.

The walls started closing in around him as a lightning strike lit up the walls of a clean, modern hospital room.

The light faded as fast as it came, leaving everything dark.

* * *

"_Do you think you're doing the right thing for him?" _A man's voice whispered. The voice was very recognizable, yet Dean couldn't place it exactly.

Dean wanted to tell the man to shut up, but he couldn't get his bearings. Everything was dark. He didn't know where he was.

"_I don't know." _A second man whispered. His voice was also recognizable. _"All I know is that if we can't get to him, we run the risk of losing him forever. I just don't know what else to do for him. He's… it was a crime of passion. If we can get to him, I think he'll be able to be released."_

"_I hope you know what you're doing." _The first man said again.

Dean looked around. A bright light was growing in intensity. It hurt. In fact, his whole body felt like it was battered. It hurt to breathe.

He closed his eyes from the glaring light and tried to will the pain away from him. He knew he'd feel a lot better if he could figure out where he was.

Suddenly, he knew where he was. He had to be in another place in Hell.

After all, not all torture involved cutting his body and soul up in pieces to be put back together again. Some torture was psychological.

"_I hope so too," _the second man finally said.

TBC

A/N: Thanks, guys. Chapter 3 will come tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I continue. Even though I'm not getting any reviews. Good thing this story is done and only four chapters.

**The Snake Pit**

Dean slowly opened his eyes. The glaring light nearly blinded him, making his head pound more than it was previously. After several moments of waiting for the room to stop spinning and making him nauseous, he was finally able to look over at Cas, sitting on his motel bed.

"Cas?" he groaned. "What's going on?"

"Don't move around too much. You have a concussion and broken ribs," Cas stated.

"What? What happened?" Dean could hear the slur in his voice.

"You briefly left us, and a part of the roof fell on you. Trapping you underneath. We had to dig you out. Sam said it was pretty much par for the course. Whatever that means."

Dean looked up. "I-I don't remember that."

"I'm not surprised."

Dean ventured another look around the room. This time, his stomach pretty much stayed where it was supposed to be. "Where's Sam?"

"He's talking to that patient in the hospital. Trying to get more information. We did find evidence that demons are around."

Dean focused on Cas. "Why are you holding your sword?"

He sheathed the sword. "You have a couple of broken ribs. I couldn't trust that the sigils were still intact."

Dean struggled to sit up again. His head felt heavy now. Although it hurt, it didn't exactly feel like he had a concussion. It felt more like he had a hangover. However, it did feel like his ribs were broken.

"What were you dreaming about?" the angel asked.

Dean paused, searching his fuzzy memory. "I don't really know. I was somewhere. I thought I was originally in one of those cells, and there was a woman singing to me. Why?"

If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that Cas looked disappointed. "You were mumbling something while you were unconscious. We couldn't exactly understand what you were saying."

"How long have I been out?"

"Well, since last night. It's about 11:00 in the morning, in case you're wondering."

Just then, Sam came into the room. "You're awake!" he said.

"What'd you find out?" Dean asked.

Sam sat down on his bed. "Not much. Beaumont is still pretty out of it, insisting that _you _beat him up. For just calling you by your name. But he's inconsistent with who had black eyes—you or others around. Although, he insists he was never in a psychiatric hospital. He thinks he's living at home."

"Did either one of you find any evidence of ghosts in the building?"

Sam and Cas exchanged a look that Dean couldn't interpret. "No," Sam said slowly. "I didn't think of even looking for ghosts. Are you now thinking of demon ghosts?"

"Don't talk to me like that," Dean said softly.

Sam looked down. "Sorry. But, I don't want you to get more hurt than you already are. We're after demons, and you want to add ghosts to the mix. OK, I did some checking into the building this morning, trying to find out why it was so damaged. It used to be part of the mental asylum, but the hospital was using it as storage for 20 years after they moved up the hill. They got a new facility beyond those trees. A couple years ago, a fire broke out in that area. A couple of buildings were burned to the ground. That one was saved, but obviously damaged. No one knows why it's still standing."

"Anyone die in that fire?"

"No. No one was even injured."

"Anyone die while it was still part of the hospital?"

"According to records, just those who had life sentences. And most of those died in peace. No reason to come back as angry spirits."

"Other than the fact that they were criminally _insane._"

"True. But, the hospital is dedicated to counseling and getting their patients better. Most patients were able to be paroled." Sam sighed. "What happened to you? What did you see?"

Dean sighed in turn. "I'm not sure.

* * *

Dean walked along a dark hall into a dark room. A fire suddenly came on beside him.

"Is anyone home?" he called.

"_Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think," _the woman eerily sang in answer to his call.

Dean turned around. The room felt strangely familiar.

As he turned, a little girl around four years old was grinning up at him, practically bouncing at the sight of him. The girl looked a little like the woman who he knew was singing. At least her grin was normal, although Dean noticed with a little discomfort that her grin looked strikingly like his own. She was wearing a light pink skirt. "Play with me," she demanded happily. "You'll be my knight and you'll rescue me. The princess."

"_Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink," _the woman's disembodied voice came again.

The girl disappeared at the woman's voice.

"Are you drinking again?" The woman's voice came at his back.

He looked down to see a glass in his hand. He took a drink. It was whiskey. He turned to the woman, who was holding his glass of whiskey. Tears filled the woman's eyes.

"You OK, baby?" she asked.

Dean nodded. She grinned and approached him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up on her toes. She passionately kissed him. He wrapped his own arms around her slender waist and gently lifted her up.

She pulled her head away from his and playfully tightened her grip around his neck as she bit her lip. "I missed you," she whispered.

"Where is she?" Dean asked, although his mouth didn't move.

A brief flash of confusion crossed the woman's eyes. She lowered herself and laughed humorlessly before resuming her song, "The years go by, quicker than a wink…"

Dean backed away from the woman and looked around the dark room again. Only the fire illuminated the place. The fire lit up a bloody wound, around the woman's ribs, causing his own broken ribs to ache in sympathy.

The woman seemed to float away, and Dean reached for her. "Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself…"

The little girl laid motionless underneath the woman's hovering feet. Dean stumbled forward in horror. He gently picked up the little girl.

As he turned away from the woman, she sang, "It's later than you think."

The girl opened her eyes. "You didn't save me," she whispered.

Dean felt a lump in his throat. "I'm sorry," he whispered chokingly. "I got here too late."

* * *

Dean woke up, his heart racing, and his gasping breaths causing his ribs to hurt more. It was raining again. For a second, he didn't know where he was. Or when he went to sleep.

Through the lightning, he saw Sam roll over away from the bright flash.

Dean stiffly sat up and stumbled out of bed. His entire body ached, although his head now felt a little on the light side. He swayed for a second, trying to get his bearings in the dark room that was occasionally lit up by the lightning outside. He staggered to the bathroom and checked out his injuries. He was pretty battered and bruised. Nothing that wouldn't heal, though.

Although, his cuts and bruises looked more like he had gotten in a fight than he had stuff fall on him.

"What's going on?" he asked his reflection.

He shook his head. _I'm now talking to myself. I can't believe that._

"Dean?" Sam called sleepily from the room.

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom. "Yeah?"

Sam blinked up at him. "You OK?"

_You OK? You OK? You OK?... _the question echoed in Dean's brain. He shook his head. "Oh, yeah. I'm feeling good. My head doesn't really hurt anymore."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry. I'm going to get a bite." Dean looked back at his reflection. "Can I get you anything?"

"Huh-uh," Sam mumbled.

Dean studied his cuts and bruises again, feeling that he was missing something. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He shook his head again and grabbed his jacket and keys before heading out into the rain.

* * *

Somehow, he didn't end up at a late-night drive-thru. He looked out at the rusty iron gate, hanging crazily off its hinges and the dilapidated ruined building. He could see the section of roof that collapsed on him.

Dean looked around, wondering just why he was here. And especially alone. He fingered his phone, debating whether he should call Cas. Even if the angel sat and stared intensely at him, he wouldn't feel so alone.

He also wondered what exactly he was staring at. Maybe if he willed it, the demons would just run into his car, and he could exorcise them.

"Yeah, that's what I'm waiting for," Dean muttered to himself.

Maybe he was waiting for the whole building to just collapse in on itself.

Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved toward the collapsing building.

Dean turned on the windshield wipers to clear off the light mist in order to see the shadow clearer. The shadow soon separated itself into two giggling teenagers who were running into the building.

He got out of the car, following a hunch, grabbed a couple of spray paint cans and pocketed them before loading his rifle with rock salt, and ran into the building after the two kids.

At the entrance, he quickly sprayed a devil's trap on the floor. He heard the kids laughing in a corridor down the hall. He stopped to quickly spray another devil's trap on the floor at the intersection between two hallways. It barely covered the graffiti, but it would do.

He cocked his rifle. A moment after, he no longer heard the kids giggling.

He looked into the next cell where he thought he heard the kids were. It was empty.

As he paused again to quickly spray a third devil's trap on the intersection between another two hallways, he looked up to see a graffiti-covered wall with a mixture of colors that formed "Are you OK, baby?"

"_Enjoy yourself…" _the mysterious woman's voice started singing again.

"Oh no. Not again," Dean breathed. He shook his head and tried to ignore the voice that was following him as he looked again for the teenagers.

"_Enjoy yourself…"_

"Where are those damn kids?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

He felt a tug on his jacket. He looked down to see the little girl looking up at him. The look in her eyes was adoring. "Play with me," she whispered. "You'll be my knight in shining armor…" Her voice trailed off as she looked away. When she looked back up at him, her green eyes were full of tears. "Why didn't you save me?"

"I'm sorry, Jelly Bean. I got back too late," he whispered chokingly.

The girl let go of his jacket and ran away from him.

He cleared his throat. "_Come on! Get your head back in the game,_" he growled at himself. He was here to find demons, and he was going to find demons. After this was over, he and Sam were going to research these ghosts and salt and burn their bones. Because this was ridiculous.

Dean continued walking down the hall, rifle at ready. He paused again to spray another devil's trap on the floor.

A shadow moved behind him. He turned as quickly as his protesting body would allow. He silently walked forward towards the moving shadow. As he rounded the corner to the see the entrance of the building. The girl was caught in one of his devil's traps.

Dean trained his rifle on her and crept forward. He kept on alert, knowing that the guy had to be around somewhere. As she screamed at him, her black eyes blazing at him, he recited the exorcism over her screams.

The demon came screaming out of her and out of a broken window. Dean wished that he would have had salt to contain the demon, but he couldn't contain all the cracks and holes in the walls, even with the salt.

The girl started to collapse, and Dean ran over to support her. "Take it easy. I've got you."

She nodded and tried to smile in spite of her teary eyes. "You're that FBI agent," she choked out.

"That's right. Where is the guy who came in with you?"

She let go of Dean's wrist and wiped her eyes. "I don't know. I-I think he left me. I don't remember coming in here."

"Yeah, I know."

Just then, the door flew open and a bright light shone in Dean's eyes. Behind that bright light came Officer Friendly's sneering voice, "Well, _Agent _Shaw. You're out late tonight." He trained the light on the girl. "Jordan Thackery. You know better than to be on these grounds. Well, we have a problem. See, you shouldn't be here by yourself, and I need to take care of _Agent _Shaw here…"

"Officer Harrison, he didn't do anything wrong!" Jordan protested, but she backed away from Dean. "See, I was here with Todd Johnson…"

"Yes, I know. I caught him. Jordan, leave now, and I'll forget about this."

Jordan glanced at Dean, but she walked to the door. At the door, she turned around. "But… he didn't do anything. He was nice. We just talked."

"Bye, Jordan." Officer Friendly said.

She smiled sadly at Dean. "Bye, Agent. I'm sorry. I hope you get to feeling better soon." With that, she left.

Dean studied the guard, sizing him up. He noticed the guard had a black left eye and a cast on his left hand. He looked around for his shotgun, just in case. He remembered laying it down when that girl, Jordan, started collapsing. But, it wasn't lying on the floor.

_What is going on?_

Officer Friendly stepped toward Dean. Dean kept his eye on the devil's trap as he backed up. "Shaw, I'm not here to hurt you. Obviously, you're already injured enough, and I am sorry about that. None of this is my goal. Let's go. I'll take you back. However, if I hear that you hurt Jordan in any way… she and my daughter are friends." At that, he walked into the devil's trap.

"So, you sent her into the storm?" Dean asked. He looked around again for his shotgun. _Where the hell is it_

"What storm?" With that, the guard stepped out of the devil's trap.

Dean cleared his throat and smiled as he circled to the door, hoping that with a different angle, he could both get out of here and regroup and see that shotgun. "Well, Officer, thank you for all your help. I'll be going now."

He walked outside into the pouring rain, hoping that the girl was all right. He wanted to go after her, give her a ride. Although, like the shotgun with rock salt, the Impala was also gone.

The guard leaned against the collapsing doorway, fingering his tazer. "What are you looking for, Shaw?"

Dean struggled to control his breathing. "Where is it!?" he yelled.

"Where is what?"

"My car! My car!"

Officer Friendly stepped outside. "Your car? Hey, let me give you a ride to it."

Dean turned to the guard, furious. He really wished he knew where that shotgun was just because it would feel good to fire two rounds of rock salt into that bastard's chest, just for the hell of it. He also couldn't believe that the creep was unaffected by the driving rain.

The officer passed Dean and walked to his own squad car. He opened the passenger's door. "I know you don't like me. I'm not too crazy about you either, so to speak. But, I'm just doing my job here, Shaw. Please, let me take you where you need to go. I'm only doing this for your safety."

Dean looked around. Obviously, this guy wasn't a demon, but he didn't trust him any further than he thought he could throw him. But, since he didn't have his car—and someone was going to die for that—and no weapon, he didn't see any other choice.

He reluctantly got in the car. He had a sense of dread and anxiety as he watched the guard move around to the driver's side and get in the car beside him.

Officer Friendly put the car in gear. "So, Shaw, where's your partner? What'd you say his name was? DeYoung?"

"Yeah. He's at the motel. But, he knows where I am."

"I bet, Kilroy."

Dean froze, cussing to himself. No wonder the guard was always so sarcastic to him. He recognized the aliases. "Great," he muttered. He gripped the car's door handle, hoping that he could jump from the car and run.

The officer responded by locking the door and grabbing Dean's arm as he steered with his other hand. "Where do you think you're going?" As he squeezed Dean's wrist, he calmly said, "You know, I'm gonna be honest with you, Shaw. Can I call you 'Shaw'?"

"Why stop now?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth against the pain of his twisting wrist.

"Does your wrist hurt? Yeah, my eye did too. And my hand, but you should know that, right?"

"Whatever that means." Dean pried the officer's hand off his wrist, noting with some satisfaction that he seemed to be causing Officer Friendly more pain.

Officer Friendly started fishing around in his pocket. "What would you do if I suddenly sank my teeth in your eye?"

"What?" Dean reached for the door again. He could break the window, no matter what speed the car was going. Maybe he would hurt himself more, but it would be worth it to get away from this strange, crazy man who was the one who belonged in a mental institution himself.

"I don't know. You asked me that the other day," the other man continued in the same calm tone. "So, I want to ask you as well."

"I'd like to see you try it."

At that, the other man chuckled and stopped the car. "I'm just testing you. I'll bet you were a great FBI agent. I don't like you, and I know you don't like me. But, when you're lucid, I respect you. So, I'm sorry to do this to you."

The man moved faster than Dean expected. As he turned to get to the lock on the door, the man brought out his tazer and hit Dean with it.

As the volts shots through Dean's body, he heard Officer Friendly softly say, "I'm sorry."

* * *

Dean slowly woke up, his whole body was screaming in agony. Although he half expected himself to wake up in the motel, like he tended to since this damn case started.

Instead, he hazily found himself strapped down to a hospital bed, unable to move.

He closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate on the voices outside his door. The voices sounded familiar, but his addled mind couldn't quite place them. And it was driving him crazy.

The door opened, and he looked over to see Zachariah.

"Hi, Michael," the angel said smugly. "Are you OK?"

To be concluded.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Long one. And last one. And I know I could have split this into at least two, if not three, chapters. I just wanted to make sure you stuck with me, because… well, you'll see.

Also, yes, I took this idea from a very recent movie. I admitted that in my author's note on the first chapter. I said that it's so influenced by this movie that I'm given away spoilers for the movie. I saw it, couldn't get it out of my head.

**The Snake Pit**

Dean slowly woke up, his whole body was screaming in agony. Although he half expected himself to wake up in the motel, like he tended to since this damn case started.

Instead, he hazily found himself strapped down to a hospital bed, unable to move.

He closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate on the voices outside his door. The voices sounded familiar, but his addled mind couldn't quite place them. And it was driving him crazy.

The door opened, and he looked over to see Zachariah.

"Hi, Michael," the angel said smugly. "Are you OK?"

Dean chuckled sardonically. "Zachariah. Of course. Who else could take me on a mind trip like this?"

"I didn't do anything. Whatever you're going through is your own doing. Your real self is trying to come out. It has been for a while."

Dean tensed against his restraints, curling up his fist. _Keep saying no… Zachariah can cram his halo up his angelic ass to lay it beside that stick. _

"I'm sorry we have to strap you down. But, it's for your own safety, as well as others. Ordinarily, you're a great guy. You enjoy helping the other patients here. But, you don't know where you are, and you refuse to accept who you are. You'd start getting better if you just accepted who you are and what you did."

"Screw you."

"Michael, do you know where you are?"

Dean glared at Zachariah. "Don't call me 'Michael'."

"No. You've been indulged long enough. Shock therapy makes you a little more aware of your surrounds and makes you more communicative about what happened. But, you tend to slip back into your alternate life. Psychotherapy doesn't work, unless we're talking about hunting for demons and monsters. We briefly get you regulated on medication, but suddenly, you decide not to take the medication anymore. We'll decide when to wean you off the meds, not you. Plus, when you're off you meds, you tend to go attacking people, including our guards, at the mere mention of your name. Although, the guard who attacked you the other night—well, it was unwarranted, and he's on unpaid leave. And, Officer Harrison will need to explain why exactly he tazed you to get you in here. Also, how you were able to just walk out of a lockdown facility."

Dean glared at him and strained against his restraints again.

"Still not talking to us, Michael?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "_The answer is still 'no'. _Do your worst. It's still going to be 'no'."

Zachariah sighed. "Tell his family that they still can't see him," he said to someone Dean couldn't see. "I'm going to start him on a valium drip. As well as a saline drip for his dehydration and fever. I'd like to take another X-ray of those ribs and do another blood workup. Do you think that will mess anything up, Doctor?"

"No, sir," Sam's voice came through Dean's fog and his cloud of anger. From his position, he could barely see Sam.

But he could see Cas pretty clearly. And behind him was the mysterious woman, smiling at him. This time, her smile was pretty. She waved at him.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, furious.

Zachariah looked over in Cas and Sam's direction before rolling away from Dean's bed. It was only then that Dean noticed that Zachariah was in a wheelchair. "I'll leave him to his primaries. Doctors, do you mind not indulging Michael here in his delusions? As you know, we need to get him to remember his past life. We are all in agreement that the first step to getting him better is to get him to accept Michael, right?"

"Yes, sir," Sam and Cas said in unison, making Dean even more furious.

"Are you OK, baby?" the woman whispered. "I love you. I don't want to see you in so much pain."

At that, Sam stepped forward and sat down on his bed, avoiding his feet. "Do you remember me?" He asked. "I can see that you know the version of me you created, by the way you're glaring at me. I'm Dr. Samuels, and this is Dr. Cassander. We're your primaries. That means…"

"I know what that means," Dean growled. "Both of you are gaslighting me for some reason. I trusted both of you!"

Cas stepped forward, "We're not gaslighting you…"

"From the guy who doesn't know what a DeLorean is. All angels really are dicks. I thought you were the lone exception!"

Cas frowned. "We've had this conversation many times before. I _know _what you're talking about. It's just been a while since I've seen _Back to the Future._"

"No one is gaslighting you, Michael," Sam said.

"_Stop calling me that! _Lucifer."

The man fell silent. A nurse came in and hooked up a new bag of saline solution to Dean's IV as well as a second bag. He knew that it was the valium. He wanted to run, but he could feel the strap on his chest tightening with every move he made other than breathing. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles rubbed them raw.

"What does the song _Enjoy Yourself_ mean to you?" Cas—Cassander—asked.

"I've never heard it until a couple days ago." The valium was starting to work its wonders.

"You often mentioned it or sang it during therapy sessions."

"Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think," the woman sang.

"_Stop it!" _Dean snapped, and the woman shut up.

"Who are you talking to, Michael?" Sam—Samuels—asked. "Are you talking to Lili?"

"Mike, talk to them," the woman said. "Please don't torture yourself like this. You know I wanted this. I didn't know I was causing you so much pain. I just didn't think. I couldn't think. Please talk to them. They want to help you."

Dean clenched his fists again and turned to face the wall.

"Not feeling up to talk to us yet, are you? You will. You always do." Dean continued to face the wall. After a few minutes, Samuels sighed. "I'll be back to talk to you in the morning. Get some rest all right?" Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Samuels stand up.

"Go ahead, Doctor," Cassander said. "I'll stay here for a few more minutes."

Dean heard the door open and close. He saw Cassander approach and start fiddling around with his chest strap. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"This strap is making my chest hurt, and I don't have broken ribs. I'm loosening it." He strapped it back up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassander disappear from sight, replaced with the light scrapping sounds of putting a chair down by his bed.

He felt a child's hand slip onto his clenched fist, and he looked over to see the little girl looking at him. "I can be your princess, and you can be my knight in shining armor," she whispered.

Dean smiled in spite of himself, and opened his hand to let the little hand into his. She entwined their fingers. He felt its warmth.

"I know you're not asleep yet," Cassander said gently. "And I know you're lucid. So, I'm going to talk about you. You can listen or not. I hope you do." He sighed. "You've been given some tough breaks. It's no wonder you needed to invent a protector. Your life is in such chaos. And, I know right now, you think you've been badly betrayed by us. And, those feelings are valid."

The little girl played with his hand. He suddenly realized he was wearing a wedding ring when the girl was twisting it around with her other hand. He tightened his grip on her, and she looked at him. She dropped his hand and stepped back. "Why didn't you save me?"

"I'm sorry, Jelly Bean," he whispered. "I was too late."

She stepped away from him again, walking over to the woman and grabbed the woman's hand. The woman started singing that song again.

Dean tried to ignore the song by looking back up at the ceiling, "Cas… sorry, _Doctor._"

"It's all right, Michael. You've called me 'Cas' pretty much since I became your primary."

"Why are you doing this? Why are both of you doing this?"

"To make you better. To make you remember what happened on Halloween night, 2005. To make you accept reality. To get you to accept your real self, Michael."

Dean looked over at where the woman and the little girl had stood. They were gone. The girl's hand didn't feel like a ghost's hand, but she kept appearing randomly, as did the woman.

_I hate cases that involve asylums!_

Dean closed his eyes, determined that when he woke up, he would be back in the motel room. And get the hell out of here. Demons or no demons. Ghosts or no ghosts.

He was going to make a rule right now—say no to any job that involved a psychiatric hospital in any way.

He finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Michael walked into his home FBI office, following his partner. It was a job well done. And, hopefully, the judicial system would lock up that creep and throw away the key.

Let him rot.

He picked up his phone to try Lili again and tell her that he was back. Once again, the answering machine picked up. "Hey, baby. Sam and I just got back into town. We caught him. I just need to finish up some paperwork, but I'll be back in plenty of time to take Mary trick-or-treating. When you get this, please give me a call back." He hung up.

"So, I heard you and Anderson are catching up to my collar record," Henrickson greeted him from his doorway.

"Yep, watch your back. We're just that awesome." He moved past the senior agent and out into the communications center where his partner was regaling some of the newbies with "tales of their heroic capture." He chuckled. "Now, Sam, don't sugarcoat it for them. It was much more harrowing than that. I mean, we need to account for the number of bullets fired… both of us had to have used, how many? 3 clips?"

"At least."

Michael smirked. The arrest went down without anyone firing anything. And, he was glad of that. But, better let the newbies think they escaped by the skin of their teeth. He grabbed the sheets he needed and went back to his office.

After a few more minutes, Sam came in to the office, and sat at his desk and started filling out his own paperwork. After a few minutes of silence, Henrickson poked his head back into the room. "So, do our conquering heroes want to grab a drink?"

"Yeah. This paperwork will be here tomorrow, Mike," Sam said.

"You guys are buying, right?" Henrickson asked.

"Sure," Sam looked over at Michael.

"I'll meet you at the bar later tonight," Michael said. "In a few minutes, I have a date with two girls. And to steal some of Mary's candy."

"How old is Mary now?" Henrickson asked.

"Four. Going on fifteen. It's very disturbing."

"Take pictures," Sam said. "What's she going as?"

Michael grabbed his phone and keys. "A princess. She wants me as her 'knight in shining armor'."

"A knight in rusty armor more like."

Michael chuckled. "No doubt."

As he walked out, he tried Lili's cell phone, betting it wasn't on. She never had it on. Sure enough, he got the automated voice informing him that the phone was disconnected or out of range. He tried the home phone again. Again, the answering machine picked up.

Michael hung up. He followed Sam outside to their cars. His classic '67 Impala was waiting for him. At one time, she was the pride and joy of his life. Even know, she still ranked pretty high on his life's loves.

However, his mind was occupied with his first love. _Why isn't she answering?_

"Mike, do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?" Sam asked, falling in step with him.

"Probably drive up to Mom's. My brother and his family are flying in," he said distractedly. _Our family's getting strangely larger and smaller every year, _he thought, remembering his older brother and his father sadly. He shook his head. "At least, that's the tentative plan."

"You and Lili want to do something different, you're always welcome to our place. I know your brother's not your favorite person." Sam looked away. "Hey, Mike, how's Lili doing?"

"Considering I can't get a hold of her, I'm hoping no news is good news." Michael unlocked the door.

"Has she been back to see that doctor?"

He sighed. "If I'm not here, I don't know. When I'm around, yeah, I make sure she goes. But, I can't force her."

"Well, Jess said she brought Mary home from preschool the other day. She said Lili was pretty out of it."

"OK," Michael said testily.

"I just wanted to let you know."

Michael got into the car. "See you later."

"Yeah."

Michael drove home, trying to get a hold of his wife. Since her miscarriage, she hadn't been very well.

He pulled into the garage, and noticed that her car was sitting there.

As he entered the house, he called out, "Honey, I'm back!" Silence greeted him as he reached for the whiskey. "He was a tough son of a bitch, but we caught him. With no shots fired."

Silence still answered him. He took the whiskey from the kitchen with him. "Lil?" He called out. "You here?"

No one answered. He took out his gun and put down his drink.

He glanced outside at the backyard. The swingset was empty.

He silently walked up the stairs. He could hear Lili softly sing a song, but he couldn't tell which one. She loved to sing, although she wasn't the best singer in the world. And, his tastes ran more to 80s metal rock, while hers ran more to ancient songs.

He quickly scanned Mary's empty room, gun at ready.

"_Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think._" He could hear Lili in their room, down the hall.

He crept toward their room, and he could hear Lili sing, "_Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink."_

Michael slowly pushed open the door, gun drawn. Lili was sitting in her rocking chair, facing the window, which had the shade pulled down. "The years go by, quicker than a wink. Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself. It's later than you think."

She was alone. Michael reholstered his gun and pulled up the window shade to let a little light in the room. "You OK, baby?" he asked.

Lili blinked up at him in a daze. She acted like she didn't know him. Then she smiled vacantly at him. "Where have you been?"

"Don't you remember? I was on a case with Sam. We got back this afternoon. Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Lili stood up. "Oh, I didn't hear the phone."

"Did you see the doctor while I was gone?" Lili shook her head. "Why not?"

"I'm all right. There's nothing I can't face as long as you're here to protect me."

Michael looked around. "Where's Mary? We need to start getting her ready for trick-or-treating before it's too late…"

Lili interrupted him with a kiss. As always, he could feel himself melting. However, this time, he couldn't get past how quiet it was. He pulled away from her. "Where's Mary?" he asked again.

Lili swung her arms around his neck. "I don't know… at school?"

"It's after 6:00. She has preschool in the mornings."

"Did you and Sam go out drinking? You're always drinking now. Even when you're here, you're not here. I miss you."

Michael untangled her hands from his neck. Shivers ran down his spine. "What did you do to Mary?" He looked around. Suddenly, it dawned on him that water was running in their bathtub. He looked over at the closed bathroom door. "What did you do?" he whispered.

He raced over to the bathroom and flung open the door. Water was pouring on the floor. Floating on top of the water was Mary, dressed in her princess costume. She was not moving.

He slipped on the wet floor as he pulled his daughter out of the bathtub. Behind him, he could hear Lili resume the "Enjoy Yourself" song.

In spite of CPR, he knew Mary was dead. She had been dead for some time.

"Mike?" Lili's voice whispered in his ear, and he vaguely felt her stroke his face. "Baby, please stop. She's now our living doll. She'll be four years old forever and ever. She'll be with our baby. And soon, we'll join them. It'll be the four of us, forever and ever."

He felt himself grow numb. Lili's voice faded away as the only things he could hear were his heart pounding in his ears and a memory of Mary begging him to play with her as he left to hunt down another bad guy.

"You OK, baby?" Lili's voice came back in to his hearing. He had turned to face her, and she stroked his face. "The four of us will be so happy now. I did this for you." She stroked her face while crooning, "Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink. The years go by, quicker than you think. Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself. It's later than you think."

He felt his gun slide out of its holster. He grabbed Lili's hand as she held his cocked gun. Numbly, he answered her lead as she aimed her gun.

"I love you," she whispered.

He tightened his grip on her hand, hating her. _She needs to die._

His gun went off. At first, he felt a white-hot pain, and he thought that the bullet hit him. As he refocused on his wife, she looked at him with a mixture of sadness, love, and shock on her face as she collapsed. The gunshot wound in her chest spread blood over the wet floor.

He could swear her eyes turned black as she died.

He lifted up his daughter and hugged her against his chest as his mind went blank.

And Dean Winchester drove out to Stanford to pick up his brother. He needed help. Dad was missing.

* * *

"Michael?" Cassander's voice floated through his head.

He opened his eyes and found himself lying on his bed. Cassander was sitting on his bed, next to the wheelchair-bound psychiatrist. Michael tensely sat up, prepared for anything, although he was suddenly aware that he wasn't strapped down anymore. .

"It's all right, Michael," Dr. Samuels said from where he was sitting on the chair. "We just want to talk right now."

"It's been a couple of days now," the wheelchair-bound man said. "So, I guess I should ask before I go any further—are you Michael or Dean? Because I'm going to keep calling you by your actual name. I just want to know if I need to strap you down again before I actually start anything. Because, I'm a little slower than you are."

"I-I'm Michael." He could feel a part of him protest strongly at that declaration.

"Good," the wheelchair-bound psychiatrist said, and Michael felt a wave of sheer dislike for the man.

"I call you 'Zachariah,' right?"

"Yes."

"I don't like you."

The man chuckled, "Trust me—I know. You've made your feelings about me very clear. And, that's all right. I actually don't mind your dislike. If I give you a means to channel your rage and your guilt, maybe we can get you well again. At least well enough to leave here and rejoin your family and friends. Your brother, your mother, your former partner, even your former in-laws have asked to see you and to take you home."

"Do you remember what happened now, Michael?" Cassander asked.

Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed to face the wall. He felt tears spring in his eyes. "I remember," he whispered as he played with his wedding ring.

"What happened that day?" Samuels asked. At Michael's silence, he continued, "I know you don't want to remember it, so you created a whole new personality who continued fighting monsters, although these monsters were more supernatural and demonic. You know that's not real, right?"

Michael stared at the wall in silence. He continued playing with his ring. "It isn't?"

"I'm sorry, but you have to talk about it," Cassander said. "What happened to you on October 31, 2005?"

Michael cleared his throat. "Um… I got back home from working a case. A murder case." He paused, trying to get his thoughts in order.

After a few minutes of silence, he continued. "Lili drowned Mary. In the bathtub." He cleared his throat to get his lump out of it. "I killed them both."

"You didn't kill Mary," Samuels said.

"I didn't drown her. But, I knew Lili was depressed since her miscarriage. And she was doing things that scared me. I could have gotten her help, but I didn't. I worked more cases, drank more. Wasn't much of a dad to Mary. When I left that last day, she asked me to play with her. I was too busy to play with her."

Dr. Samuels turned to his two colleagues. "Michael kind of has a guilt complex."

"Yes, I realize," the senior psychiatrist said.

Cassander sighed. "You didn't kill Mary, Michael. And there's a lot of doubt whether you killed your wife. Her fingerprints were on your gun, including the trigger. Her chest wound was at an angle that depicted a struggle for the gun. Everyone, including the police and the attorneys, believe that you shot her accidentally. But, your refusal to accept the reality of your world and your memories have created a separate personality. 'Dean Winchester.' Right now, he's your dominant personality. Although he seems like a great guy, he's also a man of violence. And, you've dumped a lot of your own feelings of guilt on him in order to deal with them. And, lately, there's been a conflict with your personalities."

Michael twisted his wedding ring. "You think I can get well?"

Samuels gave Michael his best puppy-dog look. "Do you feel like you can accept your past? Without Dean to protect you? To accept reality and what happened to your family?"

Michael thought about that. He didn't want to remember what happened to Lili and Mary. It was too horrible, and he was at fault. But, he desperately wanted normality. Hunting monsters and demons? Scared that an angel was going to make him an angel condom?

He was ready. "I'm serving a sentence, right? I'm incarcerated here, right?" he asked.

"You've been committed because when you were found with the bodies of your daughter and wife, you were catatonic. But, with therapy and acceptance, we don't see any reason you can't get out of here," Samuels said. "But, here's the problem—we've been here before. Having this exact same conversation. Many times before. You agree to accept Michael, and you start getting better. Then, for some reason, you slip back into Dean's personality. And, Dean doesn't think he's here. Right now, we believe that Dean thinks he's hunting for demons. The longest you've stayed yourself was 4 months. You came back, claiming to have spent 40 years in Hell. Actually, it was after this that angels crept into your delusions. You thought Dr. Cassander was…"

"Castiel. Yeah, I remember. And you're my brother who is hopped up on demon blood."

Samuels sighed. "Yeah. What did your brother ever do to you?"

"I don't want those delusions again. My own past is hard enough without what I've put on this poor guy." He was tired. Plus, there was a nagging feeling that this wasn't actually happening, even though it made sense.

Samuels smiled and stood up. "We'll let you get some rest. Join in group tomorrow. It'll help."

The three psychiatrists left his room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and arguments.

* * *

"You act like you feel better," Sam said as Michael walked him and Jess to the gate. His mother kept her arm wrapped tightly around him, as if not wanting to let him go.

"Yeah. I go up before the board next month. Hopefully, they'll agree to let me out of here. I'm kind of chomping at the bit. Nervous but excited. Anxious." He gave his mother another hug just before Jess walked her to the car. Michael watched them go, feeling a weird wave of sadness.

"Mike, has your brother been up to see you? I'm surprised that your mother asked us to bring her."

"He's been here a couple times. Mostly to talk about the legal issues. Like whether or not I'll be allowed back in the Bureau. At least on probation."

"You don't have a conviction. But, I doubt whether you'll ever be a field agent again."

"Probably not."

Sam clapped Michael on the back. "It's so nice to see you again. Whatever you decide to do when you get out of here, keep me posted, all right?"

"Will do."

At that, Sam walked away from him.

He waved at his mother as the car pulled away and went back towards the main building.

Dr. Samuels joined him. "Beautiful day."

"Yeah."

"I've had a question for you for some time. I know the two reasons for identifying me as your brother. You have more of a brotherly relationship with your former partner than you have with your real brother. And the combination of my last name and your partner's name. I can see where you came up with 'Cas.' Particularly since you started getting upset with me, and Dr. Cassander took over your case, on your request…"

"Hey, man, sorry about that. I don't remember what happened."

"My question is who actually is Dean? You didn't just grab him from your mind. He has to be someone to you."

Michael looked over at the gate that his mother and his partner had just passed through. "Dean was my older brother."

"Yeah? You've never mentioned him during your sessions."

"When I was at Quantico, he killed himself. No one ever knew why."

"Oh." Samuels looked away. "I'm sorry. Were you close to him?"

"Yeah. Growing up, he would stand up for me. He taught me how to fight. I could go to him for anything."

"He protected you."

"In many ways. He was outgoing. As a young kid, I was pretty shy."

"And, he came back when you needed a protector the most."

Michael looked down. "I didn't think of it like that. But, I guess I wasn't thinking of anything."

Samuels smiled, then caught up with another patient.

_Not likely_, a voice came in his head.

He looked around the pretty, manicured lawn. It was a bright, sunny day. However, there were a few clouds that he could see. Suddenly, he saw Lili and Mary walk into view.

He stiffened. He had been doing so well. It was only at nights when he would dream about demon hunting as Dean or about the day that changed his life. Now, they showed up again.

The blue sky suddenly turned dark and grey. He felt a few raindrops hit him as he tried to call for Dr. Samuels or Dr. Cassander, but he couldn't move. He couldn't speak.

The little girl grinned and waved at him. He smiled and waved back. _I miss you guys, _he thought. As he waved back, Lili turned to him. Her blue eyes were suddenly black as she grinned creepily at him.

* * *

Dean griped the Impala's steering wheel and looked at the dilapidated mental institution through the pouring rain. He couldn't remember how he got here. Last thing he remembered was wandering around the asylum. He didn't remember going to the car.

He glanced at his watch. He'd been out here for three hours. The only thing he had to show for it was being wet and cold, with a dull headache threatening to grow in intensity. He looked back at the ruined buildings again. There was something he was missing. He could feel it. Something… just below the surface, nagging at his mind.

After a couple of minutes, he drove away.

Sam was still asleep when Dean got back to the motel. Probably a good thing, too. Dean sat down on his bed, trying to remember what happened in the past few hours.

Sam rolled over and pried open his eyes. "Dean?" he asked sleepily. "Where you been?"

"Out."

Sam sat up and turned on the lamp between the beds. "Are you all right? You're soaked."

"Well, no, not really. But, I'm not really sure what's wrong."

"Did you have another nightmare? Your nightmares haven't been the same since we got here. You've been acting… well… strange."

"Strange, how?"

"Preoccupied. You weren't exactly focused on this case. You were focused on something else. But, I guess with your concussion, it makes sense."

"I'm sorry."

Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and faced Dean. "Do you remember exorcising the demons the other day?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Was everyone…?"

"They're all fine. You've just kind of been, well… at first I thought you had agreed to Michael. Or maybe your concussion was worse than we thought."

"Are we finished here?" Dean asked, testily.

"You were waiting for the storm to pass before we headed out again. But, have you changed your mind about that?"

"Yeah. I want to leave this place as soon as possible. I hate cases involving mental asylums."

Sam nodded. "Let me get ready, and we can leave now."

"Thanks."

Sam left for the bathroom. Dean twisted a ring on his left hand, wondering where it came from.

"We've lost him." Dean heard a voice that sounded like Cas' in his head. His stomach knotted as he looked around the room. The motel room had turned into a blurry hospital room. Sam and Cas stood over him, both looking sad.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked as he came out of the bathroom.

Dean looked around the room again. It looked like the normal motel room they always stayed in. "Let's get the hell out of here."

End

A/N: OK, the recent movie that I heavily drew this from is "Shutter Island" with Leonardo Dicaprio. So much that I know there are spoilers in this story for the movie. I liked the movie, but I did see the twist coming a mile away. I just can't get it out of my head.

The other movie is 1948's "The Snake Pit" with Olivia de Havilland. It's an OK movie—considered taboo for 1948, and it's glossed over--but Olivia de Havilland is amazing in this movie, if you like old, black and white movies. The term "The Snake Pit" deals with an ancient practice of throwing mentally ill people in a pit of snakes. The idea was if this would make normally sane people crazy (I know it would me. I'm scared to death of snakes) that it would make "crazy" people sane.


End file.
